


Like the New Normal

by sinaddict



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-01
Updated: 2005-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-07 18:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinaddict/pseuds/sinaddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't use what I can't abuse, and I can't stop when it comes to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the New Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [iridescentglow](http://iridescentglow.livejournal.com) and [solitude_82](http://solitude_82.livejournal.com) for the beta and encouragement!

**01\. you should get to know me better; no one's ever what they seem**

Shannon can't remember the sound of her mother's voice. In movies sometimes, she'd listen to characters talk about how they could still hear a loved one's voice or remember bedtime stories or lullabies. But no matter how long she focuses or how hard she tries, she can't quite remember what her mother sounded like. She thinks the only reason she can still see her mother when she closes her eyes is because of the crumpled up photograph she found sometime between the funeral and the first move.

The photograph is gone now. It's probably soaked through at the bottom of the ocean with a pair of Manolo Blahniks and a $400 lingerie set she bought in Milan during her Western Europe in thirty days or less phase.

It probably says something less than complimentary about her that she valued all three of those things about equally.

   
 

**02\. i can't use what i can't abuse and i can't stop when it comes to you**

She can't remember when exactly she realized that Boone would do anything for her. It's not something she would've thought to mark on her calendar. "September 12 - Boone's in love with me." If she'd kept a diary, she might have put it in there, but really, she wasn't big on wasting time with writing about her feelings.

The island has changed that about her, at least. God knows, writing is better than walking through the jungle waiting for polar bears to attack.

From the second he'd met her, she thinks Boone appointed himself her protector, if not her personal savior. Three weeks after their parents married, Billy Fleming pulled her hair on the playground so hard that she'd started crying. The next day he showed up with a black eye, and Shannon knew without having to ask where it had come from.

When they were little, it was so much less complicated.

   
 

**03\. you're full of shit, but you see, the world is full of girls like you**

The first night on the island, Shannon paints her toenails Cara Mia Crimson and refuses to listen to Boone's attempt to get her eating chocolate (Please, chocolate? She hasn't eaten chocolate in at least fourteen months.) since he's convinced the rescue boat won't find them right away.

Later, he lies down on a beach towel next to her as she adds a fourth coat of polish to her toes and snaps at her about being oblivious to everything but herself.

She just rolls her eyes and starts on the fifth coat.

   
 

**04\. don't act so holy, you've been sleeping in my bed**

Shannon's first kiss was Boone.

She had just turned fourteen, was just starting to figure out how to use her looks to get what she wanted, and he'd come home drunk from some random party and stumbled into her room at one-thirty in the morning. (She still doesn't know if it was really an accident.)

He'd flopped down next to her on her bed, started rambling on and on about something she can't remember now, and somehow his hand was on her cheek and his mouth was on hers, and she was just starting to get the hang of it when he pulled away and mumbled something about how wrong it was and how he was so sorry.

It's kind of amusing to her that he's still going through the same routine with her six years later.

   
 

**05\. she's not the kind of girl who likes to tell the world about the way she feels**

She wasn't sure what had possessed her to pack three bottles of nail polish in her purse while Boone haphazardly threw the rest of her stuff into suitcases and demanded she hurry the fuck up so they didn't miss the flight (all without looking at her, of course). She did know what possessed her to cram in the entire contents of the hotel mini-bar, though.

By the third day on the island, she's picked off the remains of seven coats of Cara Mia Crimson with the same attention to detail she might have given the nutritional facts on the back of her food before this whole mess, and she repaints them with Aphrodite's Pink Nightie twice.

Boone brings her a pair of sunglasses while she's working on the third coat, and she finds herself smiling up at him.

Late that night, Boone manages to hear her trying to cry silently and puts his arms around her, telling her, "Look at the bright side, Shann. When we get rescued, you'll have the prettiest toes on the boat."

She's sure it's a bad sign that it makes her feel a little better.

   
 

**06\. wanna be the only one that you know 'cause i adore you**

The first time Boone paid off one of her boyfriends, it wasn't a scam. She was barely eighteen and left home with a group of people she didn't know to 'see the country'. Somehow Miami ended up leading her onto a cruise ship that landed in Cancun with a guy who was perfectly nice (if somewhat boring) until he discovered Mexican tequila.

After the first black eye and bloody nose, she locked herself in the bathroom with her cell phone and called Boone. She was halfway to an asthma attack by the time he picked up the phone, and she was too scared and too pissed off to care that she was sobbing and begging Boone to come get her and fix everything like he always did.

He was at her door six hours later telling her to pack her things.

She didn't question how he got rid of the guy (she can't remember his name anymore); she was so happy to see Boone, she'd pulled him into the room by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him with more fervor than she'd shown her last few boyfriends. She waited until he just started to respond to pull away and start packing.

After all, being grateful never stopped her from being a bitch, too.

   
 

**07\. you must be careful, they've a million ways to kill you**

In the middle of her fourth coat of Hoodoo Voodoo, Boone goes running past her straight into the frickin' ocean like he's an extra on Baywatch or something, and she knocks the bottle into the sand as she scrambles up and runs down the beach after him, yelling for him to stop the whole way.

She stops screaming when she notices he's going after somebody dumb enough to think swimming to another island is a good idea, but it doesn't stop her from mumbling to herself that he's a fucking moron, and who does he think he is, Mother fucking Theresa?

The pregnant girl lays a hand on her arm and tries to tell her that Boone will be fine.

She mutters something about not watching the idiot drown and storms into the jungle, hoping nobody sees the tears gathering in her eyes. She isn't sure what pisses her off more: that Boone might die, or that other people might see her cry about it.

Boone would say that says something about her character. (Or lack of it.)

   
 

**08\. i think you think you're someone else; you've got to learn to save yourself**

Shannon was five when her mother died. Boone had asked her one night when they were in high school whether she remembered finding out her mother was gone, whether she remembered the funeral or anything after it. She'd told him she didn't and it wasn't like it mattered.

Truth was, the only thing she remembered was that it was an open casket and she could see her mother's eyes staring up at her when her father took her up to say goodbye.

Sometimes she has nightmares. All she remembers from them are those eyes watching her.

Sabrina had insisted on an open casket for her father's funeral, too, and no matter how much she argued and how she manipulated Boone into taking her side, there was no changing her stepmother's mind.

It was the first time that Boone failed to get her something she wanted.

She was too drunk to remember it at the time, but Boone told her later that she stood by the casket staring at the body for almost twenty minutes before anyone had the nerve to pull her away. She didn't have to ask who. She knew that the he was the only one who'd have the nerve to pull her away and take care of her.

   
 

**09\. you give me miles and miles of mountains and i'll ask for the sea**

She avoids Boone when she goes back to the beach. (It's easy enough since he's off somewhere else trying to be the hero again, the asshole.) Boone may accuse her of being self-centered, but at least when she plays to that stereotype she doesn't find herself crying over anybody else.

After throwing Sawyer's damn bug spray back at him and immediately wishing she'd aimed for his face instead of his chest, she heads back to her area of the beach and finds something that manages to make her day even worse.

Her bottle of Hoodoo Voodoo spilled out on the sand when she went after Boone.

It almost makes her want to cry again.

   
 

**10\. i am weak but i am strong; i can use my tears to bring you home**

The first time she scammed Boone, it wasn't even about the money.

Well, it wasn't _all_ about the money.

He had been promoted to chief-something-or-another of his mother's company and had some new girlfriend that was taking up all his time, and suddenly his irritating calls to check up on her were coming less and less often. When he did call, he was short and distracted, and after a couple weeks, Shannon had enough and asked a guy she knew to do her a favor.

She found that bracing herself for a hit actually made it hurt worse than when she wasn't expecting it. She'd gotten the guy -- She couldn't remember his name, either; Johnny or Joey or something like that. -- to stand in the living room shouting insults and threats while she called Boone from the other room, injecting as much panic and fear into her voice as possible.

Shannon had always been a good liar. Being a good actress was second nature.

Boone was there four hours later, and Jamie or Jesse or whatever his name was called her to tell her that Boone had paid him twenty-five grand to stay away from her. Within a half-hour, Boone was at her door again, checking her bruises and babying her when she told him how scared she had been. He wrapped her in his arms and promised to stay as long as she needed him.

She twisted him into staying for three weeks. By the time he left, he was single.

And he called to check up on her every other day.

   
 

**11\. i kill the fire so i don't get burned**

After everyone found out he took the water and Jack stopped them from lynching him, Shannon gives Boone the silent treatment as she stares at her almost empty Hoodoo Voodoo bottle while he flops down next to her. Time doesn't mean much on the island (and Shannon doesn't wear a watch since she lost hers snorkeling in the Bahamas), but it didn't seem like long before he's giving her an annoyed sigh and asking, "What? You're mad at me, too?"

"You're a fucking moron," she tells him as she tips the bottle back and forth and contemplates whether she could get another coat out of the little bit left. "What the hell were you thinking?"

She doesn't listen to his excuses until it becomes clear that he thinks she's talking about him taking the water. "Not that, idiot," she looks up from her nail polish. "This morning. You could've drowned because some woman was dumb enough to go swimming out there by herself."

"She _died_, Shannon," Boone looks disgusted with her for a brief second. "I was just trying to help."

"Help someone that won't get you killed," she tells him, and then she makes the mistake of catching his gaze, and she knows he's seen the real reason in her eyes because he softens to her. "Don't give me that look."

"I'm not going to die, Shann," he says softly as he moves a little closer to her, and Shannon rolls her eyes at him like he's being ridiculous even though she's taking his words as reassurance. (He can't know that. She won't let him.) "I won't leave you alone."

"I wish you would," she snaps, watching him recoil a bit, telling herself it's what she wants. "I'm going for a walk."

He doesn't follow her.

   
 

**12\. i knew you were mine for the taking**

She called Boone from some resort in the South Pacific. She wasn't real sober during that period, so she can't remember exactly where it was. She does, however, remember being extremely pissed off that she had to call him (he was supposed to be the one calling _her_, damn it) but she hadn't heard from him in two weeks, and Boone never went two whole weeks without checking on her.

The first three times, she got his voicemail. She kept hitting redial until he finally picked up the phone, and she demanded, "Where the hell have you been?"

"Shannon?"

"No, it's Aunt Martha," she rolled her eyes even though she knew he couldn't see her and put her feet up on the balcony table, not particularly interested in the view she was paying four hundred dollars a night for. "Who the hell else would it be?"

She heard the murmur of some girl's voice in the background and became even more irritated with him. "So sorry to interrupt," her tone oozed sarcasm. "Next time I won't even bother calling!"

It took him six seconds to call her back after she hung up on him. She let it ring to voicemail twice to give him a taste of his own medicine and picked it up the third time he called, smiling at how he could manage to sound annoyed and worried at the same time. "Jesus, Shannon, what's the problem? Are you okay?"

He met her in Thailand the next day.

This time, he was single when he got off the plane.

   
 

**13\. i will be your religion, this thing you'll never doubt**

The eighth day on the island, her inhaler runs out.

Boone's more worried about it than she is, and she should have realized sooner he'd try to do something about it. But she didn't, not until he's stumbling out of the jungle, his face bloody and battered, and it makes her think of the way he staggered to the door after Brian hit him in Sydney.

She's not sure how she stays calm while helping him to the caves; he makes her stop three times along the way because he hears the change in her breathing when she starts panicking, but somehow they get to the caves and Jack, and Jack would make sure there wasn't anything wrong with Boone. (_Aside from his overwhelming stupidity._) She collapses on a rock, barely noticing when someone puts a hand on her shoulder to comfort her because she's trying to catch her breath without being too obvious about it.

Jack asks her to stay at the caves and keep an eye on Boone, so she does, even though she knows Jack's more worried about her asthma than Boone's possible concussion. (She knows Boone must have told him, or why would he be looking at her like she was fragile all of the sudden?) She's not the type of girl who's good at playing nursemaid, though, and she spends most of the time snapping at Boone about how frickin' dumb he is for going after Sawyer alone.

He puts his injured pride on the back burner when she works herself into an attack over it.

Time runs together, one attack into the next until there's a small respite, and she's half-asleep when she feels Boone leave her side suddenly. Before she can stop herself, she's asking him (more like pleading with him) not to leave her alone, and because he's Boone and he never denies her anything, he comes back and takes her hand, murmuring reassurances about how he wasn't going anywhere.

She likes to think it's the lack of oxygen getting to her brain that makes her tell him she's glad he's there.

   
 

**14\. you try to find your happiness in someone who can't give it back**

Thailand gave way to a flight to Tokyo when Shannon saw Lost in Translation in the hotel room and decided she wanted to see Japan. She spent a week dragging Boone around Tokyo until three or four in the morning, and he followed her without complaint to every tourist attraction her whims dictated.

Tokyo was a vacation from themselves. They weren't brother and sister or step-brother and step-sister or even boy and girl; they were Boone and Shannon, nothing more, nothing less. After the fifth time they were mistaken for a couple, Shannon cut Boone off mid-"Oh, we're not..." and just said, "Thanks."

Which was probably how they came to end up drunk the second night and dancing like they were fucking with their clothes on. Boone rarely drank with her (he probably thought he had to be the sober, responsible one who had to be ready to get her out of trouble), but surrounded by the neon lights and the crush of people and the _not being themselves_, he got as drunk as she was.

And on the dance floor with the bass pounding through their bodies, surrounded by people who didn't know them, he kissed her like he wanted to own her.

The next morning, he pretended it hadn't happened.

 

**15\. be careful with me, i'm fragile; i'm a bitch, babe, and i'm on fire**

The eleventh day, she stops in front of Sawyer's tent to see for herself how bad the damage is. Boone's off playing hero again, looking for Claire and Charlie, and she's painted her toenails twice already today; she alternated between the Cara Mia Crimson and the Aphrodite's Pink Nightie so that each toe is a different color since she's down to a little under half a bottle of each left.

Shannon doesn't want to think about what she'll do when she runs out of polish.

Sawyer's sitting on a row of seats from the wreckage with Boone's book and there's a thick layer of bandages wrapped around his arm, but he's still Sawyer, so he gives her what he probably thinks is a charming grin as he says, "Well, Sticks, what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Tilting her head slightly, she just studies him like an animal in the zoo. (When she was thirteen, Boone took her to the zoo, and Sawyer kind of reminds her of one of the jungle cats they saw. Maybe a panther. She forgets which is which, now; were panthers the blond ones?) "You're almost as a big an idiot as my brother, you know. Why didn't you just tell them you didn't have my inhalers? If you have a death wish, just kill yourself and get it over with."

"Anybody ever tell you, you should try working at one of those suicide hotlines?"

Shannon rolls her eyes and sits down on the plane seat next to him. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"No," he tells her and goes back to his book. She just sits there and looks at him, one eyebrow raised, until he rolls his eyes and sighs. "You know, Sticks, this tent is now a topless zone. Take off that little bitty top or get out."

She gives him a very unladylike snort. "You're still wearing a shirt."

"I'll show you mine..." he trails off with a suggestive look as he starts unbuttoning his shirt, and she decides to go for shock value and draws her knees up to her chest to cover her breasts before reaching behind her and untying the straps of her haltar-bikini top. "Well, hot damn," Sawyer grins at her as she crumples the material into a ball and sets it next to her, on the opposite side from him so he couldn't snatch it and run. "Now this could be interesting."

"I'm glad you think so," Shannon smiled sweetly at him. "Because I'm bored and you're going to entertain me."

"Am I, now? And why am I gonna do that?"

   
 

**16\. i use the ones that i love the best**

Boone kept an apartment for her in L.A. He paid the rent every month, had maids in twice a week to keep it clean and dust-free, and made sure there was food in the refrigerator on the off-chance that Shannon may drop in.

She'd only spent a total of two weeks in "her" apartment in two years.

The night before they left Tokyo, Boone tried to talk her into coming home with him for a little while. (Like she even _had_ a home.) She'd rolled her eyes and told him sarcastically that she couldn't wait for those sit-down family dinners she'd been missing out on for the past year.

He'd let it drop until the next morning, when Shannon informed him she was going to see a friend in San Tropez after she finished packing. "Let me guess," he gave her a disgusted sigh. "A male friend?"

By the time they got to the airport, they weren't speaking to each other.

He still called to check up on her the next day, though.

   
 

**17\. people like us know how to survive**

Boone has always known how to cut her the deepest.

He called her a bitch when he felt betrayed by her in Sydney. He called her self-centered when he was trying to convince himself he didn't feel anything for her. But when he calls her useless, it cuts deeper than anything else because he's not angry with her when he says it. She can't write it off as Boone just trying to hurt her because he's hurt.

She tries to put it out of her mind, painting her toenails and stretching out on the sand to sunbathe instead, but even after managing to help Sayid a little, Boone's voice still echoes in her head as she walks back across the beach.

"Sticks," Sawyer greets her as she nears his new area between two trees. "Thinking of instituting topless Tuesdays?"

"Who even knows what day Tuesday is anymore?" she snaps back. Then she realizes she's right and she doesn't know what day it is, and that just can't be good. "I'll do topless Tuesdays if you've got something to drink."

Sawyer cocks his head, looks at her with a sly grin. "Now, what makes you think I'll share?"

"Please," she snorts, folding her arms over her chest and looking at him expectantly. "Who else is going to let you see them topless?"

"Touche, Sticks," he chuckles as he starts rummaging through a brown suitcase near him. "Have a seat, darlin'. You know the house rules."

She peers over his shoulder until she sees him remove six mini-bottles from the suitcase; it's too dark for her to read what they are, but she doesn't particularly care at this point. "It's kind of cold to be going topless," she tells him as he hands her one of the bottles.

"Backing out on your end of the deal?"

"Nope." Shrugging off her shawl, she pulls her knees up again so he can't actually see anything and tugs her tank top over her head. "But if I'm going to freeze, so are you. Lose the shirt."

"Well, now," he gives her a grin as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. She downs the liquor (whiskey, she realizes now, because it's Boone's favorite and the only time she ever tastes Boone is when he's drunk) in two gulps and hands the empty bottle back to him, holding her hand out for another. He gives her a second and says, "Just imagine what this'll look like to everybody else."

"Eh, they all think I'm useless anyway." She does the second one as quickly as the first and hands it back to him, gesturing for another.

"Slow down a bit, Sticks," he advises her, raising an eyebrow. "When this is gone, it's gone."

"Maybe," she says, thinking of the twelve bottles crammed into her purse. She'd save those a little bit longer, just in case. She doesn't want to let herself think what 'just in case' really means. (She might be on this craphole island long enough that it matters.) "Give me one more and I'll slow down."

She likes that Sawyer doesn't act like she can't handle it (the way Boone would) and just hands over a third bottle.

   
 

**18\. nobody loves me, it's true, not like you do.**

She hadn't talked to Boone in three weeks when a friend called her from L.A. Their last conversation ended with her screaming at him about how she wasn't his fucking responsibility so he should stop acting like her fucking father, and he'd responded that he wouldn't have to if she'd grow up and stop acting like a selfish little bitch.

Scuba diving at the Great Barrier Reef had given way to her moving in with her diving instructor, Brian. She'd been in Sydney for a little over a month when Lexi in L.A. called to ask her about Boone's engagement notice in the Times.

She hung up on Lexi and screamed until her voice went hoarse.

Then she pulled it together and told Brian about her rich brother who'd throw any amount of money at an "abusive" boyfriend to get his little sister out of trouble. She gave him some bullshit story about Sabrina screwing her out of her inheritance, and he bought it hook, line, and sinker.

In hindsight, she realized it had all gone just a little too easily.

She called Boone the next day, and he'd sounded mildly annoyed until he heard her start screaming at Brian, who was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a beer and reading off insults and threats she'd scripted for him.

"Just tell me where you are, I'll come get you," Boone promised, and she was smiling through her fake tears as she deliberately made her voice break halfway through her answer.

"Sydney," she sniffled, pouring herself a glass of wine in celebration. "Australia."

   
 

**19\. i do what i can; i'll make you part of this master plan**

Shannon wakes up in Sawyer's tent with a bad fucking headache and the sun is too fucking bright (especially with the sky all pink and orange like that), and the birds in the jungle are being way, way too fucking loud for this early in the morning. Groaning, she squints and finds that she apparently didn't bother putting her tank top on after the fourth bottle of liquor, but Sawyer must have covered her with a blanket.

Which is a little weird and twilight-zone because he _is_ Sawyer.

"Mornin', Sticks," Sawyer doesn't even look up from his (well, Boone's) book at her groan. "Gotta tell you, I can't remember the last time I watched a woman put away six shots of whiskey on an empty stomach without losing it."

"Not my first time," she muttered, laying back and putting her hands over her eyes. The sun's rising way too early this morning. Then she registers what he said and props herself up on her elbows. "You only had six bottles."

"Yes, I did," Sawyer looks up from the book with a sly grin. "I think that means you owe me a favor."

"Yeah, whatever," she snorts and gives him an eyeroll as she sits up, holding the blanket over her breasts. He's probably got more hidden away somewhere else. "Where's my shirt?"

He tosses her a crumpled ball of white material. "I'm serious about that favor, Sticks."

"I'm sure you are," she gives him an incredibly fake smile as she slips the shirt on and starts out of his tent, wondering how Boone's going to react to her spending last night with Sawyer. (If he even noticed, since he's been so damn busy with Locke lately.) "Thanks for the whiskey."

   
 

**20\. i'm like an addict coming at you for a little more**

Boone always loved her in blue.

She dressed in a glittery aqua haltar top that would remind him of the dress she wore in Tokyo (the night he tasted like top-shelf bourbon while his hands roamed up her back) as they bar-hopped. She paired them with low-rider jeans that would show off a thin strip of her bare stomach with the bruise just over her left hip where Brian had shoved her into the dresser for effect.

She'd stood just around the corner from the door when they heard knocking, and when Boone's voice reached her ears, she couldn't stop her lips from curving upward. Even with his engagement notice in the Times, he took less than twenty-four hours to get halfway across the world to her.

"Boone?" she greeted him, making it sound like she was actually surprised to see him. And when she started talking about going out to meet friends with Brian, she quietly drew her hair away from her face, exposing the bruise on her forehead and catching Boone's gaze as his eyes narrowed and flickered.

He'd always hated seeing bruises on her skin.

When she said softly, "Please," she made sure it sounded like she wasn't just talking about him leaving so she could go out. He just nodded, his eyes promising her he'd take care of everything again before he left.

And she could barely keep herself from smiling.

   
 

**21\. i think it's time that i showed you what I'm made of**

She's noticed Boone slipping away from her the more time he spends out in the jungle doing whatever it is he does with Locke. She helps (flirts with) Sayid whenever Boone's in the area to try to get his attention back on her (where it belongs) but he doesn't seem to notice much.

When she finally gets him alone long enough to talk to him, she snipes about his lack of hunting skills and asks if he's ever going to start bringing food back with him.

The crack he makes about her bulimia (low blow since he's the only one who knew about that) is off-hand, like he doesn't even care if it hurts her, and she almost flinches back, but resists the urge. It would give him too much power if he realized he could cut her with words.

Instead, she changes the subject, asks him about helping build the raft, asks him about helping _her_, and he looks away for a second before looking back at her with a level gaze. "No, thanks," he says and walks away from her.

And she watches him go with something like fear in the pit of her stomach.

Her first thought is, "Who needs him, anyway? Stupid Boone and his god damn hero complex."

Followed closely by, "I need a fucking drink."

She's not sure why she chooses to go to Sawyer with her paltry selection of twelve tiny liquor bottles, but she doesn't really want to get drunk alone at the moment. (_She doesn't need Boone, she doesn't._) She sits down next to him on the beach silently, her purse in her lap, and he just looks over at her curiously for a moment until it becomes clear to him that she's not planning on saying anything. "Something I can do for you, Sticks?"

"Your favor," she doesn't look at him as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a random bottle. The mini-bar she swiped the bottles from was all vodka and tequila and liquors that you could drink without mixing, so she knows they're all good. "I'm getting drunk and I'll share."

He sets down the book he was reading and takes the bottle from her, and she sees him studying her out of her peripheral vision. "Well, now, if this is really a favor, you should be topless."

"I'm not in a topless kind of mood right now," she cracks open another bottle and downs half of it without stopping before she thinks to clink it against his in a celebratory gesture (even though she's not celebrating). "Ask me again after my third one of these."

He raises an eyebrow, but is smart enough not to pass up free liquor. "I'll do that."

   
 

**22\. you're bound to lose the game, there's no one else to blame**

As soon as Brian called to tell her that he'd gotten Boone to give him fifty grand in exchange for staying away for her, Shannon knew somehow that something was going to go wrong. When Boone showed up, telling her he was taking her home with him, his tone brooking no argument since asking her nicely had gotten him nowhere in Tokyo, she looked at him, just _looked_ and tried to memorize that mildly annoyed but still overly concerned look he always gave her.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked her, and she heard Brian come in behind her and she _knew_ then that this was how everything was going to go wrong. "Let's go."

He grasped her arm, and she still just looked at him, watched the confusion in his eyes as he told her softly, "We can go."

And then Brian started talking, but it wasn't Brian that told him, not really, because Boone could see it in her eyes. (_And she really fucked up this time, she knew she did._) She looked away from him, unable to stand it any longer, and even though his voice was quiet, the betrayal in it almost made her flinch. "You set me up."

She wanted to tell him no, that it wasn't like that. It wasn't what he thought.

But it was, because she had set him up, and her real reasons were more fucked up than the lies she gave Brian. And then Brian was explaining, and her lies backfired because they made Boone think back on the other times, and he asked bitterly, "This wasn't the first time, was it?" She still just stared, let him grow angrier with her because when Boone was angry with her, there was still some passion in his eyes for her (_it was easier to look at than hurt or betrayal_).

This time, he was looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

And she was almost scared.

   
 

**23\. i can't stand the emptiness, fill it up with sound**

"You know, Sticks, I'm not sure drunk swimming is a great idea."

"So quit following me," Shannon tries to snap at him, but she's so drunk she's giggling as she stumbles through the woods. She ignores the fact that Sawyer isn't so much following her as helping her walk in a straight line even though he had almost as many drinks as she did. "Besides, you seem pretty sober."

"In comparison to you, Jack Daniels would seem sober," Sawyer tells her, and it sounds so funny to her that she starts laughing again. "You know, Sticks, you're lucky you're a fun drunk."

"I'm really not," she tells him with laugh as she grins at him and detours through the brush toward the sound of water. He may be Sawyer and an asshole most of the time, but she doubts anyone else on this craphole island would be as much fun to get drunk with. "I'm even bitchier drunk than I am sober."

"And honest, too," he shakes his head as he steers her around a tree that she almost walks into while trying to look at him. "Now that you've finished your seventh shot, you wanna tell me why you decided to start drinking in the first place?"

"Boone," she rolls her eyes, hanging on Sawyer's arm. "He's... He's... There's a word for it."

"Gay?" Sawyer suggests as he puts his arm around her waist to catch her before she trips over a root on the ground. She just starts laughing harder until they clear the brush, and a waterfall and small lake come into view. She stops short, looking at it with awe, and he grins at her. "Something, huh? Just don't open your eyes under the water."

She doesn't bother asking why as she lets him lead her down to the edge of the water, and she carelessly shrugs off her skirt and lifts her top over her head as he wades in with his jeans still on. "You said something about being topless?"

He looks back at her, does a double-take when he realizes she's standing there in nothing but her underwear. "Yeah, that was when you were sober. Put your shirt back on."

"You may be the first man to _ever_ say that to me," she dives into the water, surfacing near him and blinking drops out of her eyes. This reminds her of somewhere she's been before, but she's been so many places that she can't pick out which one it's reminding her of now. "Lighten up."

"I've already been tortured over you once, Sticks, I'm not looking for a repeat."

He swims closer to her even as he says it, and she just smiles. "You got tortured because you were dumber than Boone and wouldn't say you didn't have my inhalers."

"Ouch, darlin', your sympathy is overwhelming me here."

She splashes water at him recklessly, and it reminds her of when she and Boone were still young enough that she didn't know to be a bitch yet, and they'd gotten in water fights in the backyard pool that he always, always let her win.

She's not sure who moves first (it was probably her), but the next thing she knows, she's kissing Sawyer like she used to kiss Boone, like he's _hers_, and she's sliding her arms around his neck, trusting him to keep them both afloat because she's had too much to drink to be able to kiss him and tread water at the same time.

Sawyer tastes like cigarettes and Southern Comfort (which is weird since they weren't drinking it), and he kisses like she thought he would, passionate and wild and a little bit rough. His hands feel hot on her skin, even in the cool water, and when he slides one palm down to cover her breast, she can't stop herself from whimpering a little.

"Sticks," his voice is deeper, huskier as she breathes hard against his mouth, and he kisses her again, deeper, slower. (_He tastes a little like Boone._) "Shannon, if you wanna back out on this, tell me now."

She likes that he doesn't make excuses about how she's drunk so they can't do this, and when she kisses him again, he doesn't ask a second time if she's sure.

He doesn't fuck like she thought he would.

She thought it would be rough, hard, _fast_ (_not like Boone_), but Sawyer likes to take his time, likes to make her grit her teeth in frustration until she's growling, "Come _on_," and he's giving her that sly Sawyer grin as his hands slide over her and he moves deeper...

And she almost wants to beg him. (She doesn't beg, she demands. _Except for Boone._)

But she doesn't.

   
 

**24\. i'm sorry that I hurt you, please don't ask me why**

The look Boone gave her as he left her on the floor next to Brian was enough to make Shannon desperate for a fifth of the strongest vodka she could find. It was a look she had never seen on his face before, a look that said she may have pushed too far this time and he might not get over it as just another dumb stunt.

Boone had forgiven her many things over the years, but there was an ache in the pit of her stomach at the thought he might not forgive her this time. She thought it was truly fucked-up of her that she was more torn-up inside at the idea of Boone not being there every time she called than she was at the fact Brian took off with her share of the fifty grand.

It took her three hours in some dive bar and more shots of tequila than she could keep track of to work up the courage to go see Boone and try to fix everything, and by the time she made it to his hotel room, she was determined to do absolutely anything necessary to bring Boone back to her, even if it meant _apologizing_.

Somehow, she got from that to starting off with, "I knew you'd bring the money!"

She blamed the tequila.

Boone didn't look at her, continued packing and shook his head. "You are _drunk_."

But she'd already started this, and she was going to follow through with it. It was the tequila, she told herself, but she was going to make Boone admit it this time. No more 'we were drunk, Shannon,' or 'this was just a mistake that went too far'; this time she was going to make him admit to both of them what was really going on.

"You wanna know why?" she barely paused for his answer, and he was right because she didn't care whether or not he wanted to hear it, she was going to tell him anyway. "Because you're in love with me."

He went utterly still, tried to look surprised, tried to deny it, but she could see the guilt and confusion in his eyes as she told him she'd always known about his feelings. "You're sick," he told her, and she didn't think he was talking to her as much as himself in that moment, trying to convince himself again that he didn't really want her even as his hands were clenched at his sides and she was close enough to feel the heat of his body.

She leaned closer to him, breathing in the scent of his aftershave as she brushed her lips against the shell of his ear, tugged his earlobe between her teeth and traced her tongue along it, and she heard his agonized, "Stop."

"It's okay," she breathed against his ear as he whispered her name, and she kept saying it over and over, "It's okay," until she felt him give in, felt his hands slide up her body, and then she was clinging to him (_which was weaker, worse than apologizing, but she didn't care anymore because this was too long coming_) as her mouth found his (_and this time he didn't taste like liquor, but something more addictive_) and _god_ she couldn't remember it ever being this _good_.

They fell to the bed, Boone's arms wrapped around her and his body against hers as he kissed her (_like Tokyo, only better, hotter, harder_) and she never begged during sex but she was begging Boone, whimpering against his mouth, clutching his shoulders, and his skin was hot against her fingertips where she was digging her hundred dollar acrylics into his back.

He whispered her name like a prayer, like she was something holy he was blessed with (_and he used to go to church before he kissed her the first time_) and she thought she was telling him that she loved him as she came, but she was too drunk on him and the pleasure and the tequila to know for sure.

He groaned, "God, _Shannon_," against her neck.

And she wasn't entirely sure he seperated the two anymore.

   
 

**25\. everyone I know has gone away; died or left or just forgot to stay**

"I can't remember my mother," she tells Sawyer as they lounge on a plateau near the lake. She's using his good arm as a pillow beneath her neck while they listen to the falls, and she wouldn't have suspected Sawyer was the type to hang around after sex, but he is. "She died when I was little. I can't even remember what she looks like anymore."

Sawyer doesn't say anything, and she kind of likes that he doesn't bother with platitudes. She asks him idly, "How long do you think it'll be? Before we start to forget what home looks like?"

"If you have a home, girl, I don't think you'll forget it."

His voice is gruff, and she's good at reading people (_she can manipulate them any way she wants to_) so she thinks he probably doesn't have any place he considers home. She sighs and tilts her head slightly. "What if you don't have a home?"

"Then why worry about forgetting it?"

It's a good point, so she shuts up for a minute. But being Shannon, she doesn't like staying quiet for long. (_Quiet means bad things like her mother dying or Boone being angry with her._) "Where are you from?"

"Is this twenty questions, Sticks?" he sounds mildly annoyed, but he's Sawyer, and the only time he doesn't sound annoyed is when he thinks he's being charming.

"Depends on how many I ask before I get bored."

"Alright, but I'm asking you questions, too." She's not sure she wants to agree to that, but he doesn't bother to wait for her agreement. "Why the nail polish fetish?"

"What?"

"Every time I see you, you're painting your toes. Can't be that many different colors to choose from on this damn island."

She thinks for a few seconds and gives a calculated, nonchalant shrug. "Just gives me something to do. I'm completely useless, so I may as well look good."

He's silent for a long moment (she tells herself that she likes how he doesn't lie and say he thinks she's useful just because she was a good fuck) and finally says, "Tennessee."

It takes her a minute to realize he was answering her original question.

 

**26\. you come on like a drug, I just can't get enough**

She'd flipped off the lights while Boone dozed (_like it would somehow make everything better to be in the dark_), and she'd crawled back into the bed next to him even though she knew she should start distancing herself now so he didn't get the wrong idea. He pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her as his lips brushed over her collarbone, and he murmured something she couldn't really hear. She whispered, "Boone?"

"Yeah?" his voice was huskier when he was almost asleep, and it made her shiver. But even with him half-asleep and his body pressed against her, she couldn't bring herself to let him know how worried she had been about losing him.

He still knew what her silence meant, though. Holding her tighter, he murmured, "It's okay, Shann. It's okay."

But it really wasn't.

   
 

**27\. i am lost so i am cruel, but i'd be love and sweetness if i had you**

She and Sawyer don't bother heading back until it's already almost dark out, so by the time they make it back to the beach, the only light is from the signal fires burning and the half-moon in the sky. Sawyer doesn't kiss her goodbye or murmur sweet-nothings to her, but he does say, "Tent's always open for topless nights, Sticks."

"I'll keep that in mind," she rolls her eyes and heads off in the opposite direction, toward the area where she'd set up her and Boone's things while he was off on his hero quest with Locke.

Boone doesn't speak to her as she straightens her beach blanket and lies down, settling in for a good night's sleep since Sawyer and the walk through the jungle and the liquor wearing off made her pretty damn tired, and she doesn't bother trying to find out why he's giving her the silent treatment. (Or more silent than his usual treatment of the past week or so.)

He waits until she's drifting off to sleep to ask, "Where were you?"

"Hunting boar," she tells him sarcastically without bothering to open her eyes. "I'm as good at it as you are."

"Shannon."

"Boone," she mocks.

"Are you _drunk_?" he asks incredulously. "Where the hell did you get--" he cuts himself off as the answer apparently comes to him. "Sawyer."

"Nope, I brought the alcohol." She wants to hurt him the way he hurt her earlier, so she adds with a satisfied grin, "Sawyer just brought himself. Well, depending on how you use the word, he _brought_ me, too."

She watches Boone's eyes narrow, anger flaring as he takes in her still-damp hair and rumpled clothes and challenging expression, and this is the Boone she needs, the one who'll fight for her as much as with her, the Boone who _needs_ her like he needs air. "I can't believe you let him fuck you," he says in a low voice, clearly not wanting anyone to overhear even though they were far enough away from everyone else that only yelling could be heard.

"What? Don't you wanna ask me if it was good?"

Boone just looks at her for a long second, then heaves a disgusted sigh and heads back toward the jungle. (Probably to go find his _boyfriend_.) And he shouldn't do this when she's drunk, because she's getting that same impulse she had in Sydney to make him _admit it_, and it has to be the liquor that makes her follow through on it when she gets like this.

She gets up and goes after him, and the light from the beach fires is just starting to taper off when she catches up to him and shoves him into the closest tree. He whirls around, looking surprised and annoyed and _hers_ as he demands, "Christ, Shannon, what the hell is your problem?"

If she were sober, she'd throw out some flippant insult and stalk away from him. But since she's drunk, she's in more of an action mood and presses herself up against him, kissing him before he realizes her intent. He freezes for a second, but then his hands are on her upper-arms, holding her close as he kisses her back, and _this_ is _right_. "Boone," she murmurs against his lips.

Then he's slamming her back against the tree, and she thought Sawyer would be like this, harsh and violent and it _hurts_, but it's Boone and he still wants her like this no matter how hard he tries not to. She digs her nails into his forearms, clinging to him as his mouth bruises hers, teeth nipping her lips, and when he jerks away from her suddenly, she doesn't give him time to reconsider or pull away or tell her what a huge mistake this is.

She's sliding down his body, unzipping his pants, and he's groaning, "Shannon," as his hands lace through her hair. He gives her an agonized, "Stop it," (_just like Sydney_) but she ignores him, taking him in her mouth, and his hips jerk forward as he groans, "Oh fuck, _Shannon_."

And it's her name on his lips as he comes, her mouth that brings him there, and she knows he's _hers_ again when he lifts her up and kisses her, his hand moving under her skirt to make sure he doesn't leave her unsatisfied.

She lets herself whimper his name, soft pleas, begs him just to be sure, though.

   
 

**28\. i can't stop when it comes to you**

Late that night, she wakes up with Boone's arms around her to find Sawyer left a bottle of nail polish and the bug spray she'd asked him for the previous week on the blanket next to her. Examining the bottle, her gaze catches on the name of the shade printed in small letters on the bottom.

You're a Pisa Work.

And she smiles.


End file.
